


Philippa and James Cobb and the Example of Their Amazing Honorary Uncles

by ninemoons42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Inception (2010)
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Flashback, Gen, M/M, Post-War, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-29
Updated: 2011-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:23:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows</i> hits just a little too close to home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Philippa and James Cobb and the Example of Their Amazing Honorary Uncles

  
title: Philippa and James Cobb and the Example of Their Amazing Honorary Uncles  
author: [](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**ninemoons42**](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/)  
pairing: Arthur/Eames  
warnings: Schmoop, sections of the Battle of Hogwarts, talking about Harry Potter, the infamous Cobb squint, and Arthur and Eames remembering their wars. Also, kissing!  
This story comes out of [this trailer](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_kDb-pRCds). I've already got leave for July 15 and I really hope the movie hits the Philippines at that time, or I'm hosed!  
Also, yeah, that's a lot of book crossovers. My current inspirations, dear readers. Sorry. XD  
If you've not read the book yet: *River Song voice* SPOILERS. Really.  
disclaimer: I don't own the original story or the characters. Not making any profit, just playing in the sandbox.  
summary: _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ hits just a little too close to home.

  
One of the few things that Philippa and James Cobb could agree on was their shared aversion to bedtime, so Cobb was left squinting uncertainly in their wake when he said "It's late, bed for you two" - and they laughed and scrambled upstairs, giggling and hushing each other. James was waving his arms and occasionally shouting gibberish, and Philippa looked like she was shooting at imaginary enemies.

Once back in the kitchen, Cobb folded his arms over his chest and watched as Arthur loaded up the dishwasher. "You two definitely have something to do with that, and I want an explanation, now."

Arthur chuckled. "We're finishing up _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ , and the next chapters are the Battle of Hogwarts."

"I'm doing all of the Death Eater voices," Eames said, grinning crookedly, "and for some reason it doesn't seem to be scaring off your sprogs or giving them nightmares. On the contrary. They seem to be having a good time."

"Well, there's a happy thought - I don't know how to raise fans," Cobb said - but then he walked over to put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, waited for Eames to finish putting the leftovers in the refrigerator before offering his other hand to shake. "Thank you both, for being such good uncles."

"Pleasure's all ours, Cobb, really," Arthur said. The lines around his eyes deepened together with his smile. "You're doing fine raising them; they're good kids."

"Thanks, Arthur."

///

 _"But," said Ron, looking thoroughly confused, "aren't - aren't we heading straight back into Hogwarts?"_

 _"'Course," said Neville. "You'll see. We're here."_

 _They turned a corner and there ahead of them was the end of the passage. Another short flight of steps led to a door just like the one hidden behind Ariana's portrait. Neville pushed it open and climbed through. As Harry followed, he heard Neville call out to unseen people:_

 _"Look who it is! Didn't I tell you?"_

Arthur looked up from the book, then, and nearly laughed.

James was wrapped in his blankets, as usual, and all he could see of him was his eyes, wide and eager in the light of the lamp.

"Eames," he said.

He watched Eames reach out a long arm and gently close James's mouth, which had fallen open.

"More?" he asked.

Philippa nodded her head wildly, sending her hair bouncing into unruly curls.

Arthur grinned and reeled her in and dropped a kiss on her head - and Philippa gave him a kiss on his cheek, before composing herself again on her pillows.

 _"As Harry emerged into the room beyond the passage, there were several screams and yells: "HARRY!" "It's Potter, it's POTTER!" "Ron!"_ "Hermione!"

 _He had a confused impression of colored hangings, of lamps and many faces. The next moment he, Ron, and Hermione were engulfed, hugged, pounded on the back, their hair ruffled, their hands shaken, by what seemed to be more than twenty people: they might have just won a Quidditch final._

///

 _They had descended two more floors when another set of quiet footsteps joined theirs. Harry, whose scar was still prickling, heard them first. He felt in the pouch around his neck for the Marauder’s Map, but before he could take it out, McGonagall too seemed to become aware of their company. She halted, raised her wand ready to duel, and said, “Who’s there?”_

 _“It is I,” said a low voice._

 _From behind a suit of armor stepped Severus Snape._

Eames and Arthur looked up, startled, at the low growl that was coming from Philippa. Her teeth were bared and her eyebrows were pulled tightly together into one single line.

"Pet," Eames said, cautiously, "you know he's just a character in a book, yes?"

"I know, Uncle Eames, but I don't like him. He's mean to Harry and to Neville and to Ron and to Hermione - and they're my favorites, and I feel like they're my friends, and I want to keep them safe from him."

Eames watched as Arthur quickly recovered his composure and put the book down, opened his arms to her. "That's a good thought, Pip, don't ever lose it."

And he met Eames's eyes over her head, and Eames smiled and nodded slowly, and they picked the story back up.

 _Hatred boiled up in Harry at the sight of him: He had forgotten the details of Snape’s appearance in the magnitude of his crimes, forgotten how his greasy black hair hung in curtains around his thin face, how his black eyes had a dead, cold look. He was not wearing nightclothes, but was dressed in his usual black cloak, and he too was holding his wand ready for a fight._

 _“Where are the Carrows?” he asked quietly._

 _“Wherever you told them to be, I expect, Severus,” said Professor McGonagall._

 _Snape stopped nearer, and his eyes flitted over Professor McGonagall into the air around her, as if he knew that Harry was there. Harry held up his wand tip too, ready to attack._

 _“I was under the impression,” said Snape, “that Alecto had apprehended an intruder.”_

 _“Really?” said Professor McGonagall. “And what gave you that impression?”_

 _Snape made a slight flexing movement of his left arm, where the Dark Mark was branded into his skin._

 _“Oh, but naturally,” said Professor McGonagall. “You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication, I forgot.”_

 _Snape pretended not to have heard her. His eyes were still probing the air all about her, and he was moving gradually closer, with an air of hardly noticing what he was doing._

 _“I did not know that it was your night to patrol the corridors, Minerva.”_

 _“You have some objection?”_

 _“I wonder what could have brought you out of you bed at this hour?”_

 _“I thought I heard a disturbance,” said Professor McGonagall._

 _“Really? But all seems calm.”_

 _Snape looked into her eyes._

 _“Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have, I must insist—”_

As they were tucking the two into bed, Eames stopped when James tapped his arm with a tiny hand. "Yes, sprog?"

"You and Uncle Arthur - you're good together."

Eames paused, and out of the corner of his eye he saw that Arthur had frozen too, still bent over Philippa's head after her goodnight kiss.

"What makes you say that?"

"Your voices. You sound good together."

Eames chuckled and kissed James's cheek. "Coming from a critic like you, that's high praise indeed. Thank you, James."

"Welcome," came the answering mumble. James was asleep within moments.

Outside, with the door closed on the sleeping Cobbs, Eames looked up to see the fond little smile on Arthur's face, the dimple tucked into his cheek just barely making an appearance, and he smiled back and kissed him on his forehead.

"Even the kids can see it," Arthur chuckled.

"I actually don't give a flying fuck if the whole world sees it," Eames said, quietly, and he wasn't smiling.

Arthur stopped smiling, himself, and Eames felt him put a hand on his jaw, felt him turn his head back to him.

"Eames."

"Arthur."

"Do you want to?"

"I know it's dangerous, I know it means we're each other's weaknesses, I know all the problems - but can you believe I've already thought of a solution to all that?"

Arthur paused, and then said, with a perfectly straight face and a dead-on impersonation of Eames's own accent: "Sod them."

Eames grabbed Arthur's hands tightly, felt the other man's hands grip back. And in Arthur's accent, he said, softly: "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead."

///

As Arthur began again with the Battle of Hogwarts, Philippa and James bounced into his lap and huddled close.

 _“RUN!” Harry roared; the night was full of hideous yells and blows as the giants wrestled, and he seized Hermione’s hand and tore down the steps into the grounds, Ron bringing up the rear. Harry had not lost hope of finding and saving Hagrid; he ran so fast that they were halfway toward the forest before they were brought up short again._

 _The air around them had frozen: Harry’s breath caught and solidified in his chest. Shapes moved out in the darkness, swirling figures of concentrated blackness, moving in a great wave towards the castles, their faces hooded and their breath rattling...._

 _Ron and Hermione closed in beside him as the sounds of fighting behind them grew suddenly muted, deadened, because a silence only dementors could bring was falling thickly through the night, and Fred was gone, and Hagrid was surely dying or already dead...._

 _“Come on, Harry!” said Hermione’s voice from a very long way away. “Patronuses, Harry, come on!”_

 _He raised his wand, but a dull hopelessness was spreading throughout him: How many more lay dead that he did not yet know about? He felt as though his soul had already half left his body...._

 _“HARRY, COME ON!” screamed Hermione._

 _A hundred dementors were advancing, gliding toward them, sucking their way closer to Harry’s despair, which was like a promise of a feast...._

 _He saw Ron’s silver terrier burst into the air, flicker feebly, and expire; he saw Hermione’s otter twist in midair and fade, and his own wand trembled in his hand, and he almost welcomed the oncoming oblivion, the promise of nothing, of no feeling...._

 _And then a silver hare, a boar, and fox soared past Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s heads: the dementors fell back before the creatures’ approach. Three more people had arrived out of the darkness to stand beside them, their wands outstretched, continuing to cast Patronuses: Luna, Ernie, and Seamus._

 _“That’s right,” said Luna encouragingly, as if they were back in the Room of Requirement and this was simply spell practice for the D.A. “That’s right, Harry...come on, think of something happy....”_

 _“Something happy?” he said, his voice cracked._

 _“We’re all still here,” she whispered, “we’re still fighting. Come on, now....”_

 _There was a silver spark, then a wavering light, and then, with the greatest effort it had ever cost him the stag burst from the end of Harry’s wand. It cantered forward, and now the dementors scattered in earnest, and immediately the night was mild again, but the sounds of the surrounding battle were loud in his ears._

 _“Can’t thank you enough,” said Ron shakily, turning to Luna, Ernie, and Seamus, “you just saved—”_

 _With a roar and an earth-quaking tremor, another giant came lurching out of the darkness from the direction of the forest, brandishing a club taller than any of them._

 _“RUN!” Harry shouted again, but the others needed no telling; they all scattered, and not a second too soon, for the next moment the creature’s vast foot had fallen exactly where they had been standing. Harry looked round: Ron and Hermione were following him, but the other three had vanished back into the battle._

 _“Let’s get out of range!” yelled Ron as the giant swung its club again and its bellows echoed through the night, across the grounds where bursts of red and green light continued to illuminate the darkness._

Arthur paused, trying to fight down the surge of adrenaline. He could see the battles in his mind's eye; he could feel himself planning strategy and tactics.

And he could also feel Harry: his despair, his command of the fight, his fear and his concern.

It was exactly like being back in Iraq.

"Uncle Arthur?"

And he snapped back suddenly, to Philippa staring up at him, to James patting his cheek, then looking at his chubby fingers. "You're crying," James said, his face falling into a frown. "Why?"

Arthur looked at Eames, at the sudden sharp flash of understanding in his eyes - blood and sand on their hands - and told the truth. "I remembered being in the war, of fighting people and not really knowing why I'd been ordered to do it. But I followed my orders. I could do that much."

"Was it hard?" Philippa asked.

"It was for me, and I think it was hard for Harry, too," Eames said, and Arthur watched him tousle Philippa's hair, and then James's - and finally that callused hand landed atop his own head. Not to ruffle - just to connect. "But do you know what your Uncle Arthur and Harry had in common?"

"They're doing what's right."

"Hey, you forgot to mention someone," Arthur said. "Who did he forget, James?"

"Uncle Eames," and James went to crawl into Eames's lap, clinging to his neck.

Arthur smiled and nodded, and held Eames's eyes, and the smile on his face was the one he reserved for Eames, for the man he trusted with his life and his heart.  



End file.
